Prodigy's Life in Vague, Enigmatic, Slightly Confusing Terms

This diary does not (entirely) reflect my life, but perhaps my sole purpose of living: to have you leave more confused than you came in. Everything within is the truth, if you can manage to decipher it. Viel gluck, meine landeskunde.

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149. Wednesday, November 18th: This is war (pt.1)

This is an actual post this time. 

 

I've declared war on my roommate. Let me take you back to when it all started, some five or so weeks ago... 

 

It all began with a pack of dinosaur fruit snacks which were, indeed,not even dinosaurs. I know, ridiculous, right? They show little cartoon dinosaurs on the pack but the gummies themselves are just shaped like normal animals? Like, what??? Anyway, that's not the point of this story. The point is, I had a giant box of them on my side of the room. I didn't keep track of how many there were because, like I said, I had a giant box. Also sitting out in the open was a box of poptarts. Now, I kept a far closer eye on my poptarts because I bought several flavors and mixed them all together. Therefore, I would look forward to getting some flavors, dread others, etc. Basically, I paid attention.

Well, around this time, I noticed that my poptarts seemed to be going very fast, so I did the math. I knew how many poptarts I bought, I knew that I ate a half a pack a day and the numbers just weren't adding up. I was missing poptarts. Then, I walked past my roommate's trash and found not only poptart wrappers, but also my very distinctive dinosaur fruit snack wrappers. 

 

The evidence was incriminating.

 

But that wasn't all. I had a pack of oreo's ,and I would literally eat one per day because that's how i snack. One a day. Only I ate these oreos, not my friends, and I had only eaten one of the three rows from the pack. Well, when I came home one day, I found and ENTIRE extra row gone. Like, seriously? If she/her boyfriend took only one, then I might not have noticed, but a whole row? Hell no. 

 

Something had to be done. However, I'm not one for confrontation. I'm far too passive aggressive for that. Therefore, after posting some very entertaining snapchats, I came up with a plan. I put all of my food in a cardboard box by my dresser (out of sight, out of mind, right?) and on the top box inside, I put a note basically saying this:

There is absolutely no reason for you to be in this box or reading this note. If you are, then I know where my poptarts, dinosaur fruit snacks, and oreos are disappearing to. As per the roommate agreement, food sharing is on an ask-only basis and I was not asked. From now on, I'll be keeping very close track of my food, because I'm the sort of bitch who does that.

 

I went off satisfied that I had deterred her from her food-stealing tendencies and, for a while, everything was okay. 

 

That was, until last night. Last night, I walked past her trash and saw the very distinctive wrapper of a pouch of spicy asian peas. Now, poptarts are common. Oreos are common. Dinosaur fruit snacks are marginally less common. But these spicy peas? didn't even know where they came from. I took them from our cupboard at home on my last visit. They were imported, obscure, and there was no way in hell she happened to have the same ones. Then, I looked at the wrappers around it and found three granola bars, all of the same brand and flavor as mine, and some hostess wrappers. Now, I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt as far as those were concerned, because, hey, maybe she had a secret hostess and granola bar addiction and she bought her own. Well, not so. I checked my box and I had only two hostess cakes left out of six. Two I gave to my friend, but other than that, I didn't touch them. I don't like coconut.

 

This meant she was in my box. This meant she went through my stuff. This meant war

 

I wrote another note in large capital letters, but I won't post that here because this movella isn't rated high enough for it. You can hazard a guess, I'm certain. Then, I wrote a letter. Minus the swear words, the letter said this:

 

To whoever the [...] is stealing my food, 

 

Ok, seriously? Did you miss the note I put in here the last time? Because basically it said this: you have no [...] reason to be going through my boxes. No reason. And if you're not and you just happen to have identical brands and varieties of snacks as mine (including random-ass asian peas, of all things), then you'l never see this and I apologize. However, that is logically not the case. In the roommate agreement, food sharing is on an ask-only basis. If this continues, I will go to our RA.

And, also, I realize this makes me sound like a bitch, and, okay, maybe I am, but I'm mostly pissed because you didn't ask and are going through my stuff. That leaves everything I own vulnerable. And, I'll have you know that half the snacks I'm missing were given to me in a care package by my 80 year-old grandma who asks every week if I have enough snacks. Am I to tell her next week that no, I don't, because all of the ones she gave me in that very sweet package were eaten by my roommate/whoever else? Well, yes, probably, because, like I said, I'm a bitch. 

 

Go buy your own [...] food. 

 

This is war. I'm giving it a few days for her to find the note, and then I'm locking the box shut with my bicycle lock. Meanwhile, while she's there (which she hardly ever is; she spends most nights at her boyfriend's), I'm going to act like absolutely nothing is wrong. Passive aggressive, I tell you. 

 

We'll see who wins. 

 

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